Monthly Archives: October 2012

There’s so much to talk about, and I’m already behind so let me just get right to it….

First, my baby is 36 weeks old. And like I vaguely announced last week, I have the stretch marks to prove that this was the week little Mini Me decided that it was time to start growing! I thank him for at least waiting as long as possible to make me fat and uncomfortable, but the result is the same. In fact, I write this sitting on the couch in an awkward position because my belly now GETS IN THE WAY of everything and typing is hard (so please pardon any typos that are coming). I didn’t even dare write this from my ipad because first, I can’t find it, and second because I don’t know where I would set it and still be able to type as much as I have to say.

I meant to type this all earlier, but in my first official day off of work, I’ve been busy doing I have no idea what. Seriously. I have no idea how it’s already 3pm.

So anyway, baby is still big, still moving, and still gaining weight. All of which I hear are good things. At the end of this week he’ll be considered full term and I’ll consider myself done and start answering with “any day now!” when people ask me how much longer I have left. And then I’ll probably run away and secretly hyperventilate into a brown paper bag because he really can come any day and pending an otherwise healthy baby, will have lungs developed enough to function on his own and he’ll be leaving the hospital at the same time that I am.

Can we talk about false labor? I’ve had it with BH contractions. I feel like false labor should shut up, curl up, and die. And then set itself on fire. These contractions keep coming whether I’m sitting up, laying down, standing, walking, chugging water, or plowing my way through a bag of halloween candy and not only are they uncomfortable but they are starting to hurt. In a way that almost has me calling Angel at work and telling him that it’s time to come home and freak out with me. His daddy intuition must have known something was up because he showed up at lunch to stay home the rest of the afternoon to make sure the baby and I were both okay. WE’RE FINE. WE’RE SLEEPING. RWAR!

I’m still convinced that Baby Rivas is coming early. Anyone who disagrees with my mother’s intuition, I refer you back to the weeks that I was convinced that I was having a boy before it was confirmed that I am, in fact, having a boy. So I’ll continue to march to the tune of a (roughly) 39 week delivery, and you can secretly continue to think that I’m crazy for thinking baby is coming early when I have no logical reason why he would. Suck on that, science.

I’m pretty sure that he’s “dropped.” I put that in quotes because in the off chance that you haven’t noticed that I’m only 5’2″, allow me to point out that I don’t have a lot of room for him to sit high or low. He just….. sits. The only reason I think he may have moved down is because my acid reflux has backed off enough that I stopped throwing up multiple times a day. The last few nights I even dared myself to fall asleep without taking Tums to see what happened and I didn’t wake up in the middle of the night choking on my own vomit. Success! So either baby has all of the hair that he thinks he needs now, or my tummy finally kicked him out and forced him to take up residence further south. Either way, I’ll take what I can get at this point.

This week I got this amazing package in the mail:

Everyone hug your local UPS driver. It looks like they aren’t getting enough love over here

and in it was the BEST quilt! My aunt (great aunt? cousin? My grandpa’s brother’s daughter-in-law who shares what used to be my last name. Whatever that makes her to me besides “awesome”) made it! To provide a little color, my grandma would make all of the new babies in the family a quilt before they were born, and my aunt (great aunt? cousin? Whatever, you get the idea) decided that she was going to step up to the plate. I love her anyway, but I am extremely touched by it:

isn’t it adorable?!?! It’s so soft, and warm, and I LOVE it!

She also sent an adorable Christmas outfit that Mini Me is excited to wear. I know this because he kicked like crazy while I was opening the package and I took that to translate into “I love it!”

All of this baby business wouldn’t be possible without my husband, so on to topic number two: today is our 2 year anniversary!! I decided that today I would go ahead and like him so I’m planning to make an awesome dinner complete with wine (for those of the two of us who can drink. grrrrr….) and an artichoke crab dip that I’m excited to try. Of course, Angel doesn’t know any of this is coming, just that I said I was going to make him dinner tonight and that he was forced to eat it no matter what it was. When I asked him what he would like me to make, he suggested cheese meatballs (haha, take that, mom!)

Our lives are about to change just about any day now and I couldn’t be happier to be going through it with him. Looking back, all of my best days have been since I met him. So here’s to 50 more years together that are as exciting and loving as the first 2 were.

I interrupt the entertaining blog to bring you the following PSA: The fat lady has stretch marks.

This morning when I was getting ready for work I noticed red lines below my belly button (in the mirror, obviously, since I haven’t seen my belly button first hand in months). It took me a minute to process what they were: “What are- wait- oh, hell” Yep, that’s about the thought process. 35 weeks in, and stretch marks made their grand and not-very-graceful appearance.

I could blame the stretch marks on the fact that I ate both my and my husband’s dinner last night, but where’s the fun in that? Baby was hungry. How’s this for a typical pregnancy dinner: chicken fajitas, sliced apples, and artichokes. Angel started laughing at me when I told him what was for dinner, but the joke was totally on him when I ate both artichokes. In my defense, I did ask first and he was just too nice to turn down the larger-than-life hormonal wife who is carrying his baby. He’s a very smart man.

So imagine my surprise when I woke up at 4am and my tummy hurt because I was starving. This baby is packing on the pounds now and I have the stretch marks to prove it! In nature’s cruel joke, I now wake up every 2 hours (exactly) to use the restroom. Lovely, right?

In spite of this all, I got 10 hours of sleep and I’m ready for my last 3 days of work!

This morning on my way to work, Baby Rivas woke up a bit earlier than usual. I noticed partly because I’m the size of a whale, and partly because I swear he was dancing to the radio. I was sitting in the drive through line at Starbucks (because you can knock up the girl but you can’t take away her Pumpkin Spice Latte) listening to the radio a little louder than socially acceptable and my belly started moving like crazy. I turned the radio down when it was my turn to order and my belly stopped moving. After I ordered and pulled forward, I turned the radio up and wouldn’t you know: there goes Mini Me perfecting his dance moves.

So baby doesn’t wake up before 9am, unless it’s to dance. Good to know.

My time together with “Maternity Mondays” is coming to a close in only a few short weeks. Yesterday marked the 35 week line, and I think I can almost see the finish line from here.

I just got into the office from the doctor. My appointment was just how I like them at this stage: uneventful. In and out in 20 minutes or less with nothing more than hearing the heartbeat, confirming that the head is still down, and letting me know that he submitted my short term disability paperwork. He confirmed what I already knew: that it’s going to be a photo finish for Thanksgiving. His exact words were: “It’s going to be close. You may be spending Thanksgiving in the hospital so I hope you don’t have any plans.” I told him that I don’t care when I deliver the baby so long as he’s healthy. He laughed and said “remember that” which I’m sure means that I’m going to need some affirmations written in lipstick on my bathroom mirror starting soon.

This week my baby is big. Weight guesstimates seem pretty useless at this point since all he’s in there doing is gaining weight. And since “normal” weights for newborns are anything between 6 and 10 pounds, I’m just going to label him as “big” and we’ll leave it at that. He’s probably right around an acceptable weight to come home from the hospital if he could breathe without help, which he probably can’t quite yet.

I, on the other hand, am the very picture of motherly grace and beauty. Also: waddling. Mini Me seems to be awake at night when I get up to use the bathroom so I can only assume that he enjoys late nights and long walks on the beach. I could use some more sleep, but he doesn’t agree and he pretty much already runs my life. I may punch the next person who cheerfully reminds me to “get some sleep!” because I SWEAR I’m trying but it’s actually impossible to get the same slumber that I got before this experience because if it’s not the acid reflux it’s Mini Me kicking and if it’s not that, it’s my hip hurting because of the weight and if it’s not that, it’s one of the 1,000 other fun things I have the joy of dealing with. I’m ready to not be pregnant anymore but this morning my doctor told me that “the baby and I don’t agree” so it sounds like I’m stuck getting fatter and slower, and more uncomfortable until the three of us can get on the same page.

I started packing my hospital bag this weekend because I’m still convinced that my Little Man is going to come early, in the middle of the night, and when I’m least prepared. This must be the source of the mental need to nest, which I have a feeling will get stronger next week when I will no longer be working. I also feel the need to decorate for Christmas before all of this happens because it’s going to be the baby’s first Christmas. Seriously, the need to nest is so odd. Baby clothes aren’t folded properly, so I must refold those clothes for the 8th and 9th times before he’s born- DUH.

So yep, things are uneventful and I’m still knocked up. Angel’s just about on call now and every time I call him for something and he doesn’t answer I have a slightly embarrassing melt down along the lines of “What if I was in labor and you just missed it?!” or my personal favorite of “I WILL STAPLE THAT PHONE TO YOUR FOREHEAD IF I HAVE TO!” but then he just reminds me that I’m crazy and should probably sit down. Both of which I usually have to agree with.